


Day 24: Payback

by ofplanet_earth



Series: 30 days of Barduil [24]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bard's Ex Wife, Divorced Bard, Ex Spouse Drama, Fluff and Smut, Handcuffs, M/M, Maggie Bowman, Payback, Teasing, Thranduil teaches Bard a lesson, Tilda & Mister Thran, it's not nice to tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:52:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5279204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofplanet_earth/pseuds/ofplanet_earth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard gets cocky. Thranduil gets even.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 24: Payback

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LoveActuallyFan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveActuallyFan/gifts).



> I can't get enough of these two as artist/muse.

It was Sunday afternoon when Maggie came to pick up the kids. She didn't knock, didn't even buzz from the ground floor; she called from her car at the curb. Bard sighed as he disconnected the call and began to rally the kids. Tilda was on the verge of tears, sat upon Thranduil's lap at the kitchen table and making him promise he would be there when they visited again. 

She'd asked him— very politely, really— to do her hair again after breakfast (pancakes for the second day in a row). Thranduil had surprised her with not one plait but several small twists and braids joining together at the back of her head. She loved them, and she’d kept them nearly perfect since then. Bard stood silently in the hall as he watched Thranduil smile and tuck stray baby hairs behind Tilda's ears. "You'll have to ask your Da." 

"Da!" Tilda bounced on Thranduil's knee. "Can Mister Thran stay with us next weekend, too?" She clasped her hands in front of her chest as Thranduil's arms kept her securely on his knees, both of them giving Bard the most imploring, most adorable pouts. 

Bard wasn't sure if it was his chest that felt too tight or his heart that felt too large, but he found it hard to breathe as he said, "Of course." 

Bain and Sigrid gathered their backpacks and overnight bags as Bard gathered Tilda's crayons and pajamas. It was a teary goodbye as Tilda clung first to Thranduil's neck and then to Bard's. She didn't want to leave, she cried, and Bard could do nothing but swallow, smile, and reassure her that they'd see each other again in two weeks. 

Maggie was drumming her fingers against the steering wheel when Bard finally stepped out onto the sidewalk. She had her _annoyed_ face on. “What took you so long?” She sighed as she stepped out of the car, popping the boot so the kids could all drop their bags inside. 

“It’s been less than five minutes since you called,” he sighed as he shrugged Tilda’s bag off his shoulder. “It’s not like the kids were packed and waiting by the door for you to come save them.” 

“Let’s not be dramatic, Bard. Honestly.” She turned to Tilda, whose arms were still wrapped tightly around Bard’s neck. “You ready sweetie?” 

She shook her head and tucked her face into Bard’s shoulder “I don’t wanna go,” she whined. 

“It’s alright darlin’, we’ll see each other again soon.” He hugged her tighter and knelt to set her on the sidewalk, wishing they didn’t have to leave, either. 

“But I wanna stay with you and Mister Thran,”

“Mister Thran?” Maggie’s lips curled in a scowl and her eyes turned to Bard. 

“Da’s friend,” Tilda perked up and turned to her mother. “He made us cheesy pasta and pancakes and he plaited my hair! See?” 

Maggie’s expression was decidedly less than impressed. “Bain, help Tilda buckle up, please.” Bain groaned and dragged his feet, but he began helping his sister anyway. Maggie waited until the car doors were closed before crossing her arms and giving Bard one of her _looks_. “Really, Bard? Three months and you’re already shacking up with some bloke? What must the children think?” 

“That their Da has someone in his life that makes him happy? A novel concept, to be sure.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” Maggie raised a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“I know exactly what you meant. It’s no different when your new boyfriend spends the night.” 

“How did you—“

“Tilda calls him the Fish Man.” 

“Yes well, Tilda’s opinion isn’t exactly law, is it?” 

“No, but your kids ought to have a say in who comes round their house, don’t you think?” 

“Alfrid is— No. You know what? It doesn’t matter. Who I’m dating is none of your concern anymore.” 

“Precisely.” Bard ducked to tap on Sigrid’s window. “I love you all.” Bard said once the window had rolled down. “See you soon, yeah?” He was met with a chorus of ‘goodbye’s and ‘I love you’s as he turned to walk back into his building. 

He took the stairs, thinking he’d let himself work off the anger Maggie always seemed to bring out in him. He began to regret his decision by the time he reached the third floor— he was out of breath by the time he reached his flat. “Thran?” He called out once the door had clicked closed. 

There was no response. 

The living room was empty, and the kitchen, too. He stepped into the hall, checking the washroom before pushing open the door to the bedroom. “You know, that name isn’t nearly as cute when it’s not Tilda saying it.” Thranduil was lying on the bed, his long legs stretched out over the duvet and his shoulders propped up on the pillows. 

Though he appeared relaxed, his eyes sparked when they met Bard’s. “Take off your clothes,” he said. There was an edge to his voice, one Bard recognized from their first night together. It left no room for argument. Bard started with his shirt, pulling it over his head and delighting in the hunger that came over Thranduil’s face. He began to pull at the buttons of his jeans, smirking as he watched Thranduil watch him. 

He let his jeans hang loose on his hips as he toed off his shoes and pulled off his socks. His cock twitched under the weight of Thranduil’s gaze and he drew it out as long as he could, running his thumbs along the waistband of his jeans and under the elastic of his boxers. “Bard,” Thranduil’s voice was a warning. A soft blush had appeared on his cheeks, though his eyes had gone dark beneath the firm set of his brows. He made quick work of the last of his clothing,

“Come here,” he spread his legs slightly and Bard didn’t need to be told twice. He knelt on the bed and crawled up over Thranduil’s legs, dipping down and stealing a kiss from Thranduil’s smirking lips. He delved his tongue inside his hot mouth with little preamble. Thranduil allowed this for a moment before threading his fingers through Bard’s hair and locking his grip down tight. He pulled with just enough force to give himself the space needed to speak. Thranduil’s knee rose and traced a line up the inside of Bard’s thigh, the feeling of the rough denim foreign against his skin. 

“You like to play games?” Thranduil’s breath licked at Bard’s skin, the heat of it calling him forward again. But Thranduil’s hand in his hair would not budge. “You like to tease?”

“I suppose,” Bard shrugged. “Though I prefer the payoff.” 

“Apt,” Thranduil smirked. “Lie down.”

He did. He stretched out beside Thranduil and watched as he rose up on his knees. He pulled his shirt over his head and Bard’s hands reached out on reflex, itching to feel lithe muscle and sinew beneath his fingers. 

Thranduil caught him by the wrists before his hands could make contact. “If you want to play, you play by my rules. Understand?” Bard nodded. “Good. Hands on the headboard.” Bard’s cock was more than half hard and flushed as he stretched his arms above his head. “Don’t move.” 

Bard gripped the vertical bars, his breath heavy in his chest for an entirely different reason than his trek up the stairs. “Yes sir,” he breathed, watching the way Thranduil’s eyelids fluttered and his mouth fell open at the sound of the words. God. Bard ached for that mouth.

“You don’t need to call me sir.” 

“But I love the look you give me when I do. Sir.” 

“What look?”

“That one,” Bard’s breath was nearly a moan. “The one you give me when you intend to fuck me.” 

“Is that what you think? That I’m going to fuck you?” Thranduil leaned forward and took Bard’s cock in his hand, pulling a whimper from Bard’s throat and nearly making him forget his promise not to move. “Perhaps. If you’re good.” 

“And if I’m not?” Bard breathed. 

“Hmmm,” Thranduil hummed and took his hand away. “You’ll find you’re not the only one who knows how to tease.” He sank down on all fours and licked along the length of Bard’s cock. 

“Fuck,” Bard’s hips were lifting off the mattress and his hands were buried in Thranduil’s hair before he could think. Thranduil sat up on his knees and climbed off the bed. “No no no, please. I’m sorry.” Bard reached for the bars of the headboard again, held them as if his life depended upon it. “Please please please,” he begged.

 Thranduil wasn’t paying attention. He knelt beside the bed and Bard heard the rustle of fabric and the pull of a zipper before Thranduil stood again. In his hands he held a pair of handcuffs. They caught the light as they danced, drawing swirls across Thranduil’s pale skin. The sight had Bard moaning, brash and loud and completely unashamed.

“Fuck,” Bard watched as Thranduil climbed over his lap again and nodded in response to the silent question in his eyes. He jumped slightly at the cold metal against his wrists.

“I told you not to move,” Thranduil tightened the cuffs just enough so Bard could feel the bite. He gave them an experimental tug, breathing heavier at the sound of the chain scraping against the wooden bars.

“How long have you had these here? Is this about yesterday morning?” Bard asked. “It really wasn’t that big of a deal, I—“ 

Thranduil silenced him with three of his fingers. “You will stop talking or I will gag you.” Thranduil pulled his fingers from Bard’s mouth, a string of spit lingering on his lips. 

“Yes sir,” Thranduil turned his attention back to Bard’s cock, the saliva coating his hand as he began to tug slowly. Bard couldn’t help the whimpers and groans that came from his mouth. He reached forward and stole a kiss from Thranduil’s lips, though it lasted only a moment before Thranduil pulled away. 

“So impatient,” He scolded. Bard whined as he lost Thranduil’s hand, the spit cooling on his cock in its absence. 

Thranduil kept him there until well after sundown, his hands bound to the headboard and his hips straining up off the mattress. Bard hadn't been good, he knew, but Thranduil did fuck him eventually— only after he’d teased his cock and his arse and the sensitive skin on the insides of his thighs. He teased him with his tongue and with his hands and the hungry look in his eyes. He teased as he withheld touches, teased as he touched himself, instead. 

Bard wasn’t sure whether this was meant to be a punishment or a reward; a payback or the payoff. Either way, he wasn't complaining.

**Author's Note:**

> got a fic idea? [send me an ask](http://www.ofplanet-earth.tumblr.com/ask) and I'll add it to the list!  
> I like to tag [inspiration](http://www.ofplanet-earth.tumblr.com/tagged/30-days-of-barduil).  
> you can keep track of my word count on my [novel page](http://nanowrimo.org/participants/ofplanet-earth/novels/30-days-of-barduil) or on my [tumblr](http://www.ofplanet-earth.tumblr.com/tagged/nanowrimo).


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